“No, you are. And the first guy almost doesn’t count because he was gay.”
Cole laughed. “What?”
“Yeah, this guy that I went high school with. Jordan. It was my freshman year, and we were at the homecoming dance, and a slow song came on, and I wasn’t going to dance with anyone, but then Jordan wanted to—he was depressed because the guy that he liked, who was most definitely not gay, was dancing with this other girl, so I said yes, and then he tried kissing me, and there was tongue involved, but it wasn’t that great.”
“And that was the last time you kissed a guy?”
He was looking at me as though he couldn’t believe it. Was it that weird? My mother was always giving me shit about it, but that had kind of made me think that it wasn’t so weird.
“That was the last time,” I said. “So I guess the first and last time.”
He was quiet for a minute. Then he looked at me again. “Wait a second,” he said. “So if that was the first—and last—time that you were ever kissed by a guy, until now, are you telling me that you’ve never slept with anyone before, either?”
That coming out hadn’t really been part of my plan, either. “Um, yes,” I said. “That’s what I’m telling you.”
“Wow,” he said. “Wow.”
“So have you never met a virgin before or something?” I asked. “You’re acting like this is earth-shattering news.”
“Well, it kind of is. I mean...you’re gorgeous.” I blushed, but I didn’t think he’d be able to tell in the moonlight. “Someone as gorgeous as you usually isn’t a virgin... I mean, I guess it’s possible, but...” His voice trailed off. I could hear the genuine confusion in his voice, as this new revelation had really thrown him for a loop. “I just wasn’t expecting that at all,” he finally said.
“Which makes it sound like you think I’m some sort of slut,” I replied, kind of joking but also sort of not. “Though I heard that you’re the one with herpes.”
“Yeah, that’s completely not true,” he said. “So, I can take a few guesses as to where you heard that—actually, I know exactly where you heard that from—and it’s entirely false.”
“You’re not a virgin, though.”
“No, I’m not. I’m also a 31-year-old man, so that shouldn’t be too surprising.”
“How old were you when you lost your virginity?”
“Fourteen.”
“Fourteen? Really? That’s so young.”
“She was 16. And definitely not a virgin.”
We sat there quietly for several moments, and I tried to replay the past couple minutes in my head. How did we end up on this topic, anyway? Oh yeah—I had bit him. “How’s your tongue?”
“My tongue? Oh, it’s fine. I completely forgot about that, actually.”
“I guess that’s one way to make someone forget about an injury.”
“It’s not that bad.” He regarded me again, squinting. “You’re really a virgin?”
“Maybe we should talk about something else.”
“Sure,” he said. “Sure, that’s fine.”
But there was a long silence after that, and I tried to think of something to say, but everything that crossed my mind just sounded sort of dumb.
Something out in the middle of the pond splashed, breaking the smooth surface of the water, sending ripples reverberating outward.
“What was that?” I asked.
“A fish,” he said. “Trout, maybe.” I waited for him to say anything else, but he didn’t. He didn’t make a move to try and kiss me again, either. Finally, he pushed himself up, then held his hand out to help me up.
“We should probably get going,” he said.